Chapter 5
“You like him, don’t you?” Is the first thing Steve says when Bucky enters the gym that morning, his pack of gym clothes and water swung over his shoulders in an attempt to seem like he knew what he was doing. It catches Bucky off guard, makes his cheeks heat up all pink.
“Huh?”
“C’mon Buck, I’ve seen the way you look at Tony,” Steve muses, crossing his arms. “You haven’t looked at anybody like that since sophomore year of highschool, back when you were datin’ that blonde gal who wanted to be a nurse. Mary, was it? She was awful nice.”
Bucky pulled a face. He didn’t remember her, but that didn’t stop him from feeling a bit empty now that she was probably gone. “Yeah, an’ what about it? You’re jus’ imagining things now, Stevie.”
“I ain’t! Even Nat noticed it, too, after you fixed the coffee machine.”
“Shut up and fight me already, will ya?” Bucky grumbled.
The conversation topic stopped there when Steve gave a sigh and assumed a defensive position. It wasn’t like Bucky hadn’t trained in a while, it’s just that most of his routine had to do with those stupid bots Tony had built to counteract every move he did, and now watching as his best friend, all two-hundred pounds of super-soldier, looked over at him like he was a piece of meat, seemed a little intimidating.
He’d throw a punch with his metal arm, and Steve would one-up him; he’d weave throughout the gym to buy time, and end up tripping over something he didn’t see. And every now and then, something would go right just enough for him to pin down Steve and wipe that cocky grin right off his face.
Hell, if Bucky doesn’t end up winning this match, then he’ll never be able to handle missions.
“Heads up,” Steve warns, and before Bucky could get his metaphorical ducks in a row, he’s flipped over and on the ground. He groans, struggles against the two hands on his metal arm, before giving up completely.
“Bastard,” Bucky grits out and watches as as the blond sits back and stares over to the window, looking a little red.
Bucky follows his eyeline in confusion and freezes up when he understands why: Tony’s there, watching and grinning like a madman. His arms are crossed and the once neatly-kept hair is all ruffled from just waking up. He’s one hell of a sight and it takes so much energy in Bucky to tear his eyes away.
“Get offa me,” He grumbles, pushing himself up and totally not flexing his non-metal arm for a reaction. What was he, a fourteen-year old trying to impress the popular kids? Apparently so.
Steve breathed out some comment on how ridiculous he looked, then held a hand out as he got up to his feet, tight shirt straining and damp with sweat. “Now’s your chance,” He mused, eyebrows raised.
“Way to put a guy on the spot,” Bucky sighed, nodding his head to let Tony know he can come in.
“I’m savin’ your ass from chickening out. Of course i’m gonna put you on the spot.”
“Shut your trap.”
Steve made a small motion to zip his lips shut and promptly left the gym. He whispered about something when passing Tony and threw a glance over his shoulder; suggestive and sly as ever. Bucky’s eyes narrowed because he couldn’t quite figure out what he said, and it didn’t help that the returning glance from Stark was just as knowing, if not more.
By the looks of it, whatever it was had made Tony’s ears shade a pretty color of rosy pink, and the soft distraction of clearing his throat made it all the more suspicious.
“Do I gotta repair somethin’ for you again?” Bucky asked curiously.
Tony did that dismissive wave he mastered, then chuckled. “No, but that’s still something I might need in the near future.” He paused, fidgeting a little. “I was wondering if you have time for brunch? There’s this great place on Grand Street I heard some brunette mention.”
“Some brunette, huh? Sounds like they know exactly what they’re talking about.”
“Trust me, he’s got no clue.” Tony laughed. “You up for it? I’d invite your buddy, but he’s made it clear waffles aren’t his thing.”
Bucky tilted his head softly and furrowed his brows because Steve had always insisted that waffles were better than anything in the world, even back in the forties. But then it clicked in that this wasn’t just a small way to chat as friends, this was a date.
A real, actual date with Tony Fucking Stark; a date with the guy Bucky had been crushing over for months now, which also somehow ended up becoming known to everybody in the compound, including the man standing in front of him.
He accepted. He’d be stupid not to.
Then he spent the rest of his time before said date stressing out over what to wear. Seriously, the amount of suits in the world couldn’t even compare to how amazing Tony looked all the time, and on top of that, Bucky wasn’t even entirely sure if he should be in a suit.
They were going for brunch; a simple, domestic place in Brooklyn where Steve and him grew up terrorizing, playing Cops and Robbers, and also getting into fights. A place in Bucky’s hometown that he never thought he’d be returning to.
And it is that moment when he decided exactly what he was going to wear.
~
Bucky walks out of his room a few hours later, his hair up in a bun with loose strands falling down to frame his face. He’s wearing the usual black, ripped skinny jeans, an olive-green shirt on top for contrast, dogs tags hanging over, and a leather jacket thrown on top for the sole purpose of hiding his metal arm.
He’s gotten used to it by now, accepted the fact that the arm will always be apart of himself. But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t get stared at by people who didn’t understand.
The one time Bucky had been out and about as himself, it was after dragging Steve’s dumbass out of the water—and even then, before he got caught and dragged away to protect against HYDRA, people made no effort of hiding how weird it was to see a guy with a metal arm. Hell, they even gave the same treatment to regular people with prosthetic, non-metal limbs.
It really goes to show that judging people was second nature to the majority, even if they didn’t directly know it.
Bucky stands just outside his door for a few more moments to prepare himself. Tony never gave a location to meet, just stated that they’d be leaving the compound around twelve, and left the rest up to his imagination.
It was now edging on 11:55, according to FRIDAY, who sounded oddly joyful as she told him so.
“Can you tell me where Stark is now?” He asked the AI after a few seconds of contemplation.
“Sir is in Fury’s office right now, Sergeant Barnes. Should I page him to hurry up?”
“No, no, it’s okay. I’ll wait.” Bucky smiled up at one of the security cameras just to be polite. He could wait for as long as it takes. Hell, his whole life was a game of waiting at this point, so it wasn’t like anything happened to be new—not when he grew up with One-More-Minute Rogers, anyways.
Not even a full minute later, the quiet sound of shoes of on tiled ground rang through the lower-half of the compound, and Bucky turned his gaze from the standing mirror in the hallway to look over at Tony.
Tony who was sporting a grin and casual clothing that made him appear young; Tony who’s eyes were playful and gentle, assessing the soldier with one brief glance that made the back of Bucky’s neck heat up with sudden self-consciousness; The Tony that got him into this entire head-over-boots mess in the first place.
And for once in Bucky’s entire life, he accepted it; embraced that after all these years of torment, he could live a life to be happy and interested in someone that wasn’t going to hurt him. Who wouldn’t dare lay on hand on him without any permission to do so.
It was different with Steve. They were best friends’, and as far as Bucky knew, no feeling aside from that was apparent. Sure, they’ve had moments when they were kids, but the war and everything in between had scuffed that out far before he had a chance to revive it.
When Tony speaks up, he sounds unsure of himself, throwing off any of the prior confidence he had showed just a moment ago. “I’ve got some bad news,” He pauses, watching as Bucky’s curiosity and fear gets the best of him.
“Any good news?” Bucky asks.
“Now, would I really be that cruel to leave it out? Yes, there’s good news, depending on how you look at it.”
Bucky pauses, brows pulled together. Then, he nods; once, twice, and even forces himself to meet the other’s gaze as to not show how worried he was about what was going to follow.
“Fury won’t crack on letting you leave the compound. Not for now. Says he’s got a whole pile of papers to go through before he can let you go off just like that,” Tony says, voice apologetic. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t throw ourselves a little party here. I’ve spent all night building a new waffle maker—you’re welcome, by the way. Also came up with a little excuse to set up the theater system outside for later.”
“Theater system?” Bucky asks, and he doesn’t need to see himself to know his eyes are wide in his face.
“It’s like a drive-in movie theater but for your backyard.” Tony shrugs, “Fancy, I know, even for me. There hasn’t really been a chance to put it to good use, and trust me, I wouldn’t want all the films I downloaded for Cap to go to waste. He’s really into Disney movies, you know that? Of course you do.” He rolls his eyes.
Bucky scoffs, arms crossing defensively. He’ll have time to process this all later, but for now, he just wants to focus on how amazing this new, excited feeling is. “What gave you that assumption?”
“Are you kidding me? Please tell me you are,” Tony sighs, dramatic as ever. He makes a motion to have the other follow him, which Bucky does. Easily. “The mere mention of Disney movies made you flash that adorable smile of yours. Cap does the same thing.”
He continues after a moment, shooting an appointed glance to Bucky. “And no matter what Spangles tells you, i’m not a popcorn-hogger. None of the Avengers’ know how to ration out enough for everybody, which might say a lot about the whole sharing is caring bullshit.”
“You sure?” Bucky asks, because he’s a bastard. It earns him a light shove and annoyed expression, one he knows will disappear in a matter of seconds once they actually reach the communal kitchen.
He’s been in there more times than his own room, Bucky thinks to himself bleakly, and he watches as the engineer immediately sets his pace toward the coffee machine as if it was the last source of liquid on Earth.
“Sir,” FRIDAY cuts in as the machine gives a beep to start its process. “It is unwise for you have any more caffeine without a source of food first.”
Tony scowls, “Yeah, yeah,” He waves his hand in the air and beckons Bucky to situate himself on one of the few chairs next to the kitchen countertop. “I’ll eat something in a bit. After this final cup.”
“You haven’t eaten anything yet?” Bucky asks. He knows about the sleep deprivation and lack of self-care personally, but when it happens to someone he trusts—someone he cares about—then it gets him a little worried. Hell, Steve nearly had him ripped to shreds after Bucky admitted to not eating for a week.
“Too busy,” Tony put it simply. And then he looked over towards the window with an expression that could only be described as a mix between amused and cocky. “You’re an awful like your American Blond pal,” He pointed out.
Bucky rolled his eyes, “Kinda hard not to be after being stuck with him for so many years. You’d be protective too if a kid half the size of ya showed up with a bloody lip and bruised knuckles.”
“Oh, is that how it went down? I’ve heard enough of Cap’s stories on how you guys’ met. He’s just as bad as Howard was, always talking about someone they looked up to one way or another.”
That tugged a certain expression onto Bucky’s face and it didn’t go unnoticed by Tony, who’s brows quirked up as a silent way to show curiosity. Him and Sam were a lot alike in that way, though Tony would probably tan his hide if he ever pointed it out.
“Nobody looks up to the Winter Soldier.”
“No, but people look up to James Buchanan Barnes.” Tony stated. Bucky swore he heard a small ‘duh’ follow afterwards.
“Yeah, well, whoever does is an idiot. I may be as right as rain, but I ain’t no hero.”
Tony uncharacteristically stayed quiet then, and just focused on getting the whirring machine to cook up a few waffles. If it weren’t for the distant look in his eyes, Bucky would’ve pushed for a response. He didn’t, but he thought about it.
He understood how to choose his battles now that he had control of them.
~
Brunch turned out just as good as Bucky remembered it. The waffles were crisp, drizzled in a topping of carmel and maple syrup that was presumably “Shipped all the way from Canada to blow your taste buds’ minds,” as said by Stark in his attempt to lighten the mood.
Yeah, whatever minds’ his taste buds had were definitely blown.
The can of whip cream was long forgotten where it had been placed on the counter near a bowl of fruits, but in an attempt to change that, Bucky grabbed at the can and sprayed a whole mouthful into his metal hand, eyes glinting with mischief.
The genius, of course, had seen where this was going with only a short glance to the outstretched hand. “Don’t,” Tony said, tone half-serious. “I mean it, Barnes.”
“Don’t what?” Bucky had asked innocently. He placed the can back down on the counter and gave a small hum, staring down at the mountain of whip cream, before bringing his gaze back up to Tony’s cautious eyes. “I’m just satisfying my sweet-tooth, is all.”
“By holding that in your hand?”
“You wouldn’t understand it. It’s a forites thing.” Bucky explained.
Tony remained cautious, but he lightened up enough to stop staring at the soldier like he was some sort of kid on April Fools, and turned back to his coffee mug.
Perfect.
“Hey doll, would you mind lookin’ at my arm? I think it’s acting weird from having whip cream on it.” Apparently water, dirt, and blood stood a chance, but not a simple food item? Yeah, he was a much better liar as the asset. Or maybe he was trying to seem ridiculous; throw the genius off for once instead of having him constantly one step ahead.
Bucky could only dream.
“You're messing with me,” Tony blatantly stated. “If I come over there and end up covered in cheap, canned whip cream, I will not hesitate to call off tonight's movie plans.”
“I'm not going to do anything. Jus’ need some help, is all.” Bucky assured.
Tony narrowed his eyes for a moment, gaze unwavering in that accusing intensity, before his guard finally dropped and he crossed the kitchen to the soldier's left side. He paused, only inspecting the sleek, metal hand when it was brought up from where it used to lay on the stone-cold counter.
“Seems fine to me,” He frowned. Surely, he would have spotted some flaw or system deficiency by now with experienced engineer eyes an’ all. That’s how it worked, right? At least, Bucky assumed it was that easy.
He didn't even have time to react, because a moment later, Tony had a face full of whip cream—the exact thing he was worried about in the goddamn first place. He wiped at his eyes and huffed, about ready to yell his voice out two ways to Sunday.
Bucky just laughed in that edging side of evilly, already calculating a comeback as he was now crossed to the other side of the counter, grasping the can like his life depended on it.
“I can't believe that worked,” He snickered.
“Shut up!”
“Make me.”
Tony glared and Bucky smiled, and if there was any actual anger left in his system, it would have drained at that look by now.
“Come here,” Tony beckoned, wiping his hands on a towel to rid of the sticky mess, still scowling despite of himself.
“Are you kiddin’ me? I ain't that dumb, y'know.”
“How am I going to get you? You have the can and the advantage here, Barnes. There's nothing I could possibly do.”
Now, it was Bucky's time to narrow his eyes. He didn't let up on the accusing look just as quickly as the engineer, but he also didn't stay in his place; safe and protected from whatever scheme Tony was planning. He stepped, once, twice, and felt a familiar ring through him.
Somehow, perhaps in an earlier state of mind, he had done this before.
Once he deemed it safe from the side of Tony he was standing at, Bucky drained of any tension that kept in those broad shoulders of his. “Now what?” He asked, looking down at the other.
“You wanted me to shut you up,” Tony replied nonchalantly. Then he leaned up on his toes and Bucky completely felt his heart skip a beat. “I'm only doing what's told.”
The distance closed.
They were kissing; soft, shy presses of lips until Bucky got a hold of himself and wrapped a non-metal arm around Tony's waist. He hadn't felt that spark of pure joy burning beneath his skin in years, and the self-proclaimed “talent” he had with kissing gals back in the forties was nothing compared to how he was with the latter.
Hell, he was practically inexperienced after so long, and he couldn't find it in himself to care.
“That worked better than I thought,” Tony remarked as he pulled back, grinning.
“You taste like whip cream,” Is all Bucky said in response.
Tony chuckled and lifted his hand, now grasping onto the can without Bucky even noticing it was gone in the first place. “I wonder why,” He rolled his eyes. “Over seventy years of being a trained assassin, yet you don't notice me taking something from your hand? Maybe Tasha was right about you.”
“The hell is that supposed to mean?”
“It means you're a softie. And also stupid.”
Bucky huffed, “That makes the two of us, then—plus Steve because he’s basically the definition of a dumb softie,” and then he leaned down to place another kiss onto Tony’s cheek for the hell of it.
He’s gotten the okay for it now, so he might as well use it to the best of his advantage. At least until the engineer makes it clear that affection wasn’t something he wanted. Bucky could easily get by with that. He knows what it feels like to despise any sort of contact on day’s where his head spins dangerously, and he doesn’t have any right to not provide Tony that chance to opt out; to push him away and settle with a cup of coffee and hours of tinkering.
He just hopes that Tony knows this.
But he’s also hoping that if they just kissed on their first so-called “date”, then maybe more will come out of it later tonight. After all, it’s not like they had all the time in the world to go over things when Tony’s an Avenger and Bucky’s just as busy dealing with his head.
That’s all he had right now: hope.
~
The rest of the afternoon consisted of more playful bickering, that eventually evolved into a full-on battle between Bucky, Tony, Clint, Peter, and possibly Natasha.
She was mostly quiet as she watched them all argue to their hearts’ content, but whenever something especially ridiculous came out of one of their mouths (which was usually Clint because he hadn’t even known what this was about halfway through), she’d make some dry comment in Russian that only Bucky could really understand.
“Он милый, когда злится.[He’s cute when he’s angry]”
“Кто, Клинт?[Who, Clint?]” Bucky asked, raising a brow over at the archer, who’s sputtering like he doesn’t know what dad joke to say.
Natasha nods subtly, something that would’ve gone unnoticed if Bucky wasn’t focusing on her idle, expressionless face so hard. He takes note of it, crossing his arms and briefly glancing over to the upside-down Peter hanging from the ceiling.
“Я удивлен, он что он в твоем вкусе.[I’m surprised he is your type]”
“Мне тоже.[Me too]”
And then Tony points an accusing finger towards the two and the conversation abruptly stops there. “Woah, woah, woah! You can’t just talk a different language when we’re all discussing something over here!”
“Sorry, милый[Sweet heart], but we both know that ain’t gonna stop us.” Bucky smiles, watching the irritation fall away from Tony’s face as he practically deflates against the soldier. Tony’s tired, a heavy press against his side that says more than enough: He needs rest, even if the very thing turns him into a big, whiny toddler mad about being kept from his toys.
Bucky glances over to Natasha, who looks at him with a curious smirk, then slowly wraps an arm around his—boyfriend’s? Friend’s?—waist with an announcement of: “We’re going to bed. Are you guys’ gonna stick around for the outdoor film later tonight?”
“I’ll have to ask Aunt May, but i’m sure she’ll let me stay,” Peter answers, followed by the others somewhat nodding in agreement.
“Pete, you can stay in the bedroom up by Cap,” Tony says.
“Isn’t that—?”
“Yes, it’s Thor’s room. Captain Jack-Blondie has barely added anything in there, except for a wall with a bunch of crayon drawings on it.” He pulls a face, “Trust me, he won’t mind one bit.”
Peter swings down and leaves the main area with a soft ‘thank you’ and huge smile on his face. It’s the cutest damn thing Bucky’s ever seen, and he’d bet his whole life that everyone else in the compound would have agreed.
“I’ll see you guys’ around, then.” Bucky sighs, hauling Tony up with a surprisingly low amount of protest. “Hold off on the arguing, will ya? I’m starting to get a headache from all you morons.”
“Hey, you started it.” Clint replies, and then promptly gets (gently) smacked on the back of the head by Nat. She seems pleased with the squawk that follows afterwards, and then they all part ways from there.
Bucky doesn’t have much struggle when it comes to carrying people around. He’d done it to a griping Steve in the forties, and now he’s sure that he has to do it again since Tony’s legs don’t seem to work at the moment. Or, really, maybe that’s just his way of asking to be picked up without having to.
“When’s the last time you slept?” Bucky asks—half worried, half annoyed—and watches as Tony’s brows pull together in thought.
“FRIDAY?”
“It’s been 26.5 hours.”
“Thank you, sweetie.”
“It is my pleasure, Mr.Stark.”
Tony turns, grinning softly. “See? I’m fine. The only time i’ll ever need a nap is when i’m retired, which is far from soon. Pepper gave up trying a month into knowing me, anyways, so I’d advise you to do the same.”
“And watch your eyebags grow darker every minute? It’ll only be for a few hours, doll, s’not even that long.” Bucky sighed, then stopped at the door, leaning up against the wall like he used to when he was a teenager. Poor Ms.Claudia threatened to tan his hide more times than he could count, and if it weren’t for Steve and his nice way of excusing Bucky’s shenanigans, she sure would’ve went through with it.
“Well,” Tony drawled, eyebrows raised. “Is this some other forties thing I don’t get? You can come in. It’s not like anybody’s going to stop you.”
Bucky hesitated, cheeks heating up, his blue eyes ever-insistent. “Don’t you think it’s kinda odd that I’m headin’ off to your bedroom after only one date?”
“If you could call that a date,” Tony grumbled. He looked more smug now, like a cheshire cat who caught a golden mouse. But then he shrugged, all pretenses dropped to focus on the doorknob. “It’s not like we’re going to do anything—unless you want to. I don’t see you much of the rushing type, though.”
“That’s because i’m not. I just… wanted to make sure we’re all on the same boat here, is all.” Bucky shrugged, and then he opened the door because it was driving him mad that they were just standing there out in the open. For all he knew, that spider-kid could be around spying on them.
But Tony was right: They weren’t going to do anything. So if the paranoia in his head was just some trick being played on himself, then that’s okay. That is one-hundred percent, perfectly fine.
And it stayed that way for the rest of the afternoon.
~
The TV played at a low volume on some cooking show that Bucky tuned out of over a half an hour ago. He was staying still, chest rising and falling on account for the semi-heavy weight against it: A weight that happened to be a peacefully sound-asleep Tony, who’s expression was so drained of tension that Bucky had thought he looked an awful lot younger that way.
They had both ambled into the room after Bucky gave a long talk on how Stark didn’t need any goddamn alcohol before taking a nap, then happily collapsed against the silky bed sheets and presumed a comfortable position that resulted in heavy eyes and sleepy, content smiles.
Tony was a very close match to how Steve slept: curled up on his side and snuggled into whatever thing he had closest. It could be a pillow, a person, or whatever, they both always found a way to completely trap something close to them and never let go.
And it wasn’t like Bucky didn’t enjoy this. His legs had fallen asleep a few times and there was heat flashes every now and then, but he wouldn’t dare move incase that cute lil’ Tony would wake up. A grumpy Stark was never a good thing to have around, and boy was that the most truthful thing he’s learned.
No amount of coffee could settle that annoyed expression of his, nor could it hold in hundreds of snarky comments all day long. So, Bucky might have a big problem with the amount of coffee assumption he takes, but he also couldn’t say that it didn’t help. Because it did; it did a lot. And that was the bread and butter of the whole thing.
Which brings Bucky to his initial focus: Tony.
The sun was soon to fall behind the depths of mountains and trees in the distant window, and if he let the engineer stay asleep any longer, the whole ‘movie night’ deal might just as well be called off to another time.
Bucky didn’t doubt that most of the Avengers’ would be sleeping during said film, but he needed people awake enough to enjoy at least a few minutes with him—and maybe also make popcorn in those fancy cooking boxes, but that's besides the point. If he was going to morph back into a version of himself again, then he’ll have to have some support all around.
And what better way to do that than just enjoying a domestic thing, such as an old Disney film?
“Sweetheart,” Bucky cooed softly, letting his right hand run through the other’s soft, brown hair. “Сладкий сердце, come on, you gotta get up.”
Tony groaned, brows furrowing softly in that stage of Don’t Bother Me. But then he blinked a doe eye open and sleepily glanced up to the soldier, the fondness growing on his face in a matter of seconds. Those were the exact eyes Bucky found himself causing trouble over.
“What time is it?” He asked, voice gravelly, sending a small spark up Bucky’s spine..
“Six o’clock, give or take. Steve checked in earlier; says he’s gonna set up everything without us if we don’t hurry the hell up.”
There was a soft chuckle against Bucky that he more felt than heard. “What?” He asked, smiling like a dope because hey, seeing the other happy had some magic way of rubbing off on him.
“I’m almost tempted to wait. Let Captain tight-pants struggle for an hour.”
“You know he won’t give up, either.” Bucky laughed. “C’mon, it’d be better off having him in a good mood by the time we get down there.”
They got up and ready in less than five minutes. It would have been sooner, but Tony insisted on a kiss every time Bucky was close enough to provide one, and the still-tired, affectionate Stark was something he really had to adjust to. It wasn’t often Bucky got to see someone flip on a dime, especially a person like Tony—someone who had kept their persona and emotions so up in the wraps that only a few got to see unravel.
He struck the lottery with this, and no amount of words could describe how determined he was to keep it like that—to keep Tony like that; all smiley and bright.
They still didn’t have a label for whatever they were, and instead of bringing it up, Bucky just let himself enjoy what he’s got instead of worrying about the future. Besides, they’ve got plenty of time to figure things out, and the sudden rush otherwise would just makes things a little stressful.
“You ready?” He asked, already heading over to the door with a confident sort of stride that made Tony roll his eyes.
“Yeah, I’m ready. I had to wait for my old man to get the memo,”
“Your old man? Since when was I yours?” Bucky scoffed. He didn’t get much of an answer: all Tony did was roll his eyes and shove him aside, leading them both out to the lower lobby until meeting up with the rest of the so-called “team.”
If a team spends ten minutes arguing over who stole what bowl from what cupboard, then they weren’t really qualified all too much on the sharing aspect of anything. What was the point in having labeled cupboards if everything just ends up mixed, anyways? The hell he knew. These people were supposed to be protecting the planet from destruction, not fussing over mundane things like this.
So, if there’s anything that he’s learned in the past few months, no matter who you are or what you do, you’ll always end up a giant mess. And, really, he’s content to just let that be.